Saying which, he immediately expired.  The philosophical security exhibited by her father in his very last moments, inspired Ninon with the same calmness of spirit, and she bore his loss with equanimity, disdaining to exhibit any immoderate grief lest she dishonor his memory and render herself an unworthy daughter and pupil.

The fortune left her by her father was not so considerable as Ninon had expected.  It had been very much diminished by extravagance and speculation, but as she had in mind de la Rochefoucauld’s maxim:  “There are some good marriages, but no delicious ones,” and did not contemplate ever wearing the chains of matrimony, she deposited her fortune in the sinking funds, reserving an income of about eight thousand livres per annum as sufficient to maintain her beyond the reach of want.  From this time on she abandoned herself to a life of pleasure, well regulated, it must be confessed, and in strict accordance with her Epicurean ideas.  Her light heartedness increased with her love and devotion to pleasure, which is not astonishing, as there are privileged souls who do not lose their tender emotions by such a pursuit, though those souls are rare.  Ninon’s unrestrained freedom, and the privilege she claimed to enjoy all the rights which men assumed, did not give her the slightest uneasiness.  It was her lovers who became anxious unless they regulated their love according to the rules she established for them to follow, rules which it can not be denied, were held in as much esteem then as nowadays.  The following anecdote will serve as an illustration: 

The Marquis de la Chatre had been one of her lovers for an unconscionably long period, but never seemed to cool in his fidelity.  Duty, however, called him away from Ninon’s arms, but he was distressed with the thought that his absence would be to his disadvantage.  He was afraid to leave her lest some rival should appear upon the scene and dispossess him in her affections.  Ninon vainly endeavored to remove his suspicions.

“No, cruel one,” he said, “you will forget and betray me.  I know your heart, it alarms me, crushes me.  It is still faithful to my love, I know, and I believe you are not deceiving me at this moment.  But that is because I am with you and can personally talk of my love.  Who will recall it to you when I am gone?  The love you inspire in others, Ninon, is very different from the love you feel.  You will always be in my heart, and absence will be to me a new fire to consume me; but to you, absence is the end of affection.  Every object I shall imagine I see around you will be odious to me, but to you they will be interesting.”

Ninon could not deny that there was truth in the Marquis’ logic, but she was too tender to assassinate his heart which she knew to be so loving.  Being a woman she understood perfectly the art of dissimulation, which is a necessary accomplishment, a thousand circumstances requiring its exercise for the sake of her security, peace, and comfort.  Moreover, she did not at the moment dream of deceiving him; there was no present occasion, nobody else she had in mind.  Ninon thought rapidly, but could not find any reason for betraying him, and therefore assured him of her fidelity and constancy.